


Sarah.

by sicktastic



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drama, Eddie is an ex hoe, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Nothing explicit, Richie's got a gf, Romance, gotta love hoe Eddie, modern day high school au, no pennywise, so there is some cheating, they both kind of suck in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicktastic/pseuds/sicktastic
Summary: The one where Richie's an idiot, Eddie's tired and Sarah's in love.





	Sarah.

Sarah.

Richie is not a good boyfriend.

He doesn’t text back. He’s not good at remembering dates. Miscommunication is often a problem. Compromise isn’t something he’s fond of. 

Overall, he lacks effort.

He seems like a better friend. 

Eddie’s never complaining, neither is Bill or Mike or Ben. Sometimes Stan glares at him and Beverly occasionally ignores him but Sarah doesn’t see much of those two anyways. 

Sarah is Richie’s neighbor, she has been for 10 years. He was seven when she moved in next door.

Richie had been outside most of the day, trying to get a better idea of who exactly his new neighbors were. Sadly, he’d already come to the conclusion that they weren't going to be sweet old ladies who’d bake him cookies on the weekends.

He was loitering in his front yard during the mover's lunch break and they didn’t seem to be too happy. “I’ve never seen such a tiny house packed so full. Don’t they ever throw anything away?” one of them had said and it got Richie going; hoarders for neighbors? He didn’t like the idea of mountains of trash and masses of antiques spilling from his neighbor's windows and toppling off of their front porch. What would happen if their property became too overrun with junk? Would his own yard start to suffer?

Richie soon learns that this is an exaggeration. Mrs. Charter may have an oversize collection of dog figurines but the hoarding doesn’t extend far past that.

Richie and Sarah met the first day she moved in. Sarah had been sitting on her new front porch on her new wooden swing, sipping on a pink lemonade, when she spotted the neighbor boy walking to and from his mailbox. It’s usually not something she’d think twice about but when she caught him doing it for the fifth time, she decided she should probably say something.

She got up and stalked over to where her yard met his then asked, “Are you waiting for a letter or something?” Richie had looked at her with big round eyes. He certainly hadn’t expected to be caught and all he could manage to do was nod his head. That was pretty much the end of it. Later, he was forced to acknowledge that his spying skills could use a bit more finesse. 

After that, they weaved in and out of each other's lives for the next few years. They had been friends, acquaintances, strangers.

Their friendship didn't truly solidify until the 8th grade. A trip to the office after a little smoke break made sure of that. They bonded in detention.

The first time they went out, was during their freshman year. It was a movie and dinner date, pretty standard. There was nothing spectacular about it but nothing bad either. Richie had paid, Sarah had chosen the movie, and they both had a good time, so naturally, their relationship progressed. 

They’ve been together three years today. Sarah remembered Richie didn’t. To be quite honest, she’s even not that upset about it.

She goes out of her way to buy him a card, some candy and the new CD he’s been pinning over the last week. She does these things because she wants too.

It’s Saturday so she calls him a little after one, he doesn’t answer. She waits around for about an hour before he texts her back.

_what's up?_

_can i come over?_

_yeah_

She tugs on some jeans and quickly checks herself out in the mirror. She decides some mascara will do her some good and when her lashes are up to par she heads next door. The walk there takes less than 45 seconds and Sarah doesn’t knock before entering through the side door. It’s never locked. 

She finds Richie in his room, lounged across his bed. Eddie’s there too. 

“Hey Sarah,” Eddie greets, he’s sat at Richie’s desk.

“Hey Eddie.” 

“What brings you over my dear?” Richie says lifting his gaze from his phone, he looks up at her. Sarah smiles then places her gifts on the bed in front of him. He eyes them. 

“Did I forget something?” 

“Read the card.” 

It takes Richie a minute to get the envelope open but when he does, he skims over it and frowns. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as he looks up at her again.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she says impassively.

“It’s not- you know I’m shit at dates.” 

“Oh you bet I do.” 

Richie bites down on his lower lip. “We’ll go out tonight, where do you want to eat?” 

Sarah doesn’t tell him she’d rather have him plan a date for once because she knows she won't be able to say it without sounding like a bitch. Instead she smiles thinly and says, 

“I’ll have to think about it.” 

Eddie leaves an hour later and they’re left alone. 

Even though Richie sucks, that isn’t news, and Sarah still finds that she’s in the mood to mess around. She scoots closer to where he’s laying down and puts a hand on his chest, she trails it up and down, taking his attention away from the tv. He watches her.

“Can we fuck?” she asks, skipping over anything romantic. 

“If ya want.” Richie casually replies. 

Their sex life could probably do with a little more excitement but as Sarah shimmies out of her underwear and Richie unhooks her bra, she feels that same tightness spread through her stomach. Richie doesn’t waste any time getting his pants down and situating himself between her legs. He grips the underside of thighs and bends in to kiss her.

It only takes fifteen minutes before they’re both finished and redressing themselves. Sarah’s hair is mused to the back of her head and the top she had been wearing have these complicated straps that have her wishing she’d just thrown on a t-shirt. 

“So...where to?” Richie asks when he returns from the bathroom. He’s wearing a neutral expression on his face and he takes a second to loop his car keys through his fingers.

Richie hates decisions so she knows if she doesn’t make a choice, they’ll be going nowhere.

“Olive garden?” she asks as if she cares about Richie’s approval. She knows he’d never disagree. He nods.

“Sounds good.”

-

Mikala wanted to dye her hair brown on Tuesday and Sarah never agreed to help but when Tuesday night rolls around she still finds herself wearing a ratty old tee shirt and splotches of hair dye running up her arms.

“It’s a wonder it all hasn’t fallen out yet,” she says picking through another section of Mikala’s hair. She’s almost got her whole head covered at this point.

“Good genetics and some argan oil can really save a bitch’s life.” Mikala retorts starting to slump down in her chair, Sarah nudges the back of her shoulder with an elbow. 

“Hey midget, straighten up.” 

“Hey giant, fuck you.” 

Sarah shakes her head. Eventually, Mikala obeys and sits up taller. After awhile, boredom dawns over her and she starts to squirm. It irritates Sarah so she purposely brushes a glove, saturated in dye, across the side of her neck. 

“Watch it!” Mikala squeals moving out of Sarah’s vicinity to bend down and pick up a towel. She vigorously rubs the soiled spot on her neck until it’s faint. “Is it gone?” she asks. 

“Almost,” Sarah smiles. She returns her fingers to Mikala’s scalp and does one last rubdown before piling every strand of hair on top of her head. She does her best to tie it in a bun and says, “should be about 35 minutes.” 

“I’m well aware of how long.” Mikala mumbles. She gets up to go stand in front of the mirror. She squints at herself. “I’m going to look a complete mess, do you see these edges!?” she cries whirling around to face Sarah, she points at her hairline. Sarah just laughs. 

“No ones perfect.” 

Mikala huffs but drops it. She exits the bathroom and migrates to her bedroom, Sarah follows. 

“Did you ask Richie yet?” Mikala questions, she picks a few shirts up off the floor then crosses the room to throw them into her hamper. 

“Ask him what?” Sarah blanks, mild confusion crossing her face. 

“About the trip, dumbass.”

“Ohh, no, I forgot.” Sarah says, she flops down onto Mikala’s bed. 

“Well you better do it soon, I need a headcount.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Sarah waves a hand of dismissal in her direction. 

“I’m serious, and specifically ask for Mike to come.” 

“Why?”

“Because he is a delicious piece of meat I have yet to eat. ” 

“You have a boyfriend,” Sarah sighs. She pictures the kind of faces Dylan would make if he heard how Mikala talks when he’s not around.

“Yeah, and I probably won’t by then.” Mikala moves over to her nightstand and yanks the top drawer open. She pulls out a rolling tray, sets it on the surface of the table and dumps the leftover bud that had been sitting in her grinder out onto it. She splits a cigar and after stripping its guts into a trashcan, she goes to sit on the brink of her bed. “Dylan’s great and whatever but he’s kind of a bore.” She takes the tray into her lap and begins to roll a blunt. 

“You’re going to break up with him?”

“I don’t know yet, I mean eventually…” Mikala says, Sarah watches her fingers move up and down the shell. She tucks and rolls for a good 5 minutes before bringing the wrap to her lips and licking it closed. She looks thoughtful for a few seconds before asking, “what about you? What happens when you go off to New York?” 

Sarah doesn’t say anything, she stares at the floor. 

“Hello?” 

“I was thinking about staying.” Sarah lets out a little too quickly. 

“What?!” Mikala exclaims twisting around to give Sarah a look of disgust. “Is this about Richie?” 

“No, no…” 

“Then what? You were so excited, it’s like your dream.” 

“Not really.” 

“Bitch.” Mikala shakes her head then turns forward again. She lights the blunt. “If you stay for Richie it will be the worst mistake of your life.” 

“You don’t get it.” 

“No, you’re right I don’t.” Mikala replies, the blunt bounces up and down between her lips, she puffs on it. “So what are you planning to do? Go to whatever shitty college Mr. Genius gets into, get hitched and pop out a couple brats? That’s the life you want?” 

“Will you just stop.” Sarah says and she isn’t smiling. But neither is Mikala. After a decent amount of silence, Mikala sighs.

“I’m just worried that you aren’t thinking it through.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Sarah says firmly, looking Mikala in the eye. She sighs again. 

“Whatever.” 

-

Sarah wanted to work on Broadway. Not in it, but behind it. Production and design have always been the hobby that's taken up most of her time. Some would say it’s her ‘passion.’ 

She’s been involved in stage crew ever since her freshman year and she’s stuck with it for every single play, musical, concert and any extra jobs they needed her for. She’s rightfully earned her title as chief.

However, Sarah’s parents are here, and her brothers and her house. And then there’s Richie. In reality, she’s always dogging on him, rolling her eyes, shaking her head. But really it’s so much more than that.

Richie has been there forever, even when it wasn’t like how it is now. Her fondest memories from way back when are the ones where she would sneak out around the side of her house at night to smoke and he’d already been out there, waiting for her. They’d watch the stars; sometimes they’d talk, sometimes they didn’t. 

She didn’t know what changed. She didn’t know when or why she started looking at him differently. Normally, he had just been loud and scrawny. But then one day he was funny and cute. It was like a switch, it was off until it was on. 

She waited a year before she told him she was having these thoughts. 

He asked her out then and it had been good. She loved him, she could tell by the way her stomach fluttered every time she saw him and how her skin burned when he touched her. Even after the fires settled and that love was no longer new. She could still feel all of it. She still loved him. A lot.

Richie doesn’t like the rain so he isn’t smiling when he walks into first period. His hair is soaked and his tee shirt is speckled with wet spots. He sits next to Sarah. 

“It’s humid as hell out there.” he says hunching forward to cross his arms over his desk. 

“Tell me about it, look at my hair.” Sarah responds, lifting a hand to smooth down the frizz puffing out around her head. Richie glances over and gives a lopsided smile, he says,

“looks cute.” Sarah smiles at him. 

In the front of the room Mr. Halbert clears his throat and starts to lecture them on literary terms. Halfway through the class, he stops to give them an assignment. Sarah may be uninterested in what Mr. Halbert has to say but she doesn’t struggle with it like Richie does. She helps him work through the paper, well more like offers up answers after getting sick of hearing him whine.

“At least attempt the last one. Look, now you’ve got a ton of examples,” Sarah says double checking the answers on her own paper. Richie stares at her.

“That would require energy that I don’t have.” Richie leans his cheek against his knuckles. When Sarah doesn’t respond, he sighs and turns to his right, he looks at Eddie. “What’s the answer for the last one.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie responds and Sarah smiles to herself. 

“Come on Eds,” Richie pleads, bending in closer to get a better look at Eddie’s paper. Eddie throws his arms over his desk to shield his answers, he gives Richie a hard look. 

“You’re brain is going to die if you don’t use it.” Eddie snaps, his eyes flicker over to Sarah briefly before he returns his attention back to the assignment. Richie scoffs and drops his head into his arms. He buries his face into the crook of his elbow. 

“Stop being a baby,” Sarah breathes. She stands at the same time Eddie does, they look over at each other. “I can take that up for you,” she offers. Eddie smiles at her and hands over his paper. 

“Thanks,” he replies while sitting down.

Sarah catches Richie peeking up at her through his eyelashes, she gives him a teasing wink before walking up to the front of the room and turning the papers in. When she makes it back to her seat, she catches Richie whispering something into Eddie’s ear. Eddie sees her watching and shoves Richie away from him. The eye contact Eddie maintains with Sarah is fragile and awkward, he breaks shortly after he ignites it. 

-

At lunch Sarah says, 

“Mikala wants to know who all is going on the beach trip? It’s coming up in a few months and she’s been up my ass about it.” 

Ben, Mike, Bill, Eddie and Richie all look over at her, then at each other. 

“Mike you were specifically requested to join,” she adds. Mike’s eyebrows pull together and his expression gives away his confusion. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“Because Mikala wants to eat your meat.’”

“Oh boy,” Mike says looking a little surprised. Though after a minute, he makes a face like he’s considering it.

“Well obviously I’ll go,” Richie jumps in slinging an arm over Sarah’s shoulder. She smiles then glances around the table. Bill’s shrugging and Eddie’s features have a strange tinge to them. 

“I’ll go too,” Ben says, this triggers the same response out of Bill and Mike. Everyone looks at Eddie. 

“How bout it Eds?” Richie nudges him in the side, but Eddie looks put off. 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles stabbing a tater tot with his fork. Richie frowns.

“What’s wrong?” Richie asks more softly. His arm drips off of Sarah’s shoulders and falls to his side. Eddie glances over. His gaze is flighty and Sarah isn’t exactly sure what she sees cross through Eddie's face but it doesn’t make her feel good. 

“Nothing,” his voice is low, he turns away. 

-

At home, Anthony punches Gavin in the ribs and they end up on the floor fighting about something Sarah assumes is stupid. At the moment, Gavin has Anthony pinned underneath him. He shouts something incoherent in his brother's face. Sarah only briefly observes the mess in front of her before her mind already starts to deteriorate. She shakes her head. 

All the commotion gets the dogs wound up. They both come skidding across the hardwoods; their deep barks start to blanket her brother’s screams. They jump into the fight. 

“Watch it Boss!” Gavin shouts straddling his brother. He sits up and rubs his forearm with his non-injured hand. Anthony uses this distraction to his advantage and flips them so he’s on top. “Hey, hey I’m tapping out!” 

“No outs asshole!” Anthony disputes laying another fist into Gavin's jaw. 

“You dick!” 

The dogs are howling at this point and Sarah’s getting tired of the noise. 

“Boss! Asoka! Fuck off will ya!” she marches over and pulls them back by their collars. They quickly get the hint and quiet down. Asoka trots a few feet away before plopping down. Boss hangs close around her legs. After that's settled. She leans in and grips the back of Anthony’s shirt using all of her strength to try and lug him off of Gavin, he doesn’t budge. She lets go and drops her arms to her sides, fed up, she opens her mouth. 

“Owwwww! You’re hurting me!” Sarah wails, making sure to exaggerate every syllable. It brings the fighting to a halt almost instantly, diverging her brother’s attention from each other over to her. As they stare at her she takes in how rough they look; messy hair, tattered shirts, dilated eyes. There’s even some blood forming in the corner of Anthony’s lip. 

“What the fuck Sarah?" Anthony whines right before she pushes him off of Gavin. Obtaining no balance, he falls to the floor. “Hey!”

“You _both_ are annoying,” she states and approximately one second later a bright yellow box sitting on the kitchen counter catches her eye. She squints at it then groans. “If you guys were fighting over the pizza rolls again I’m going to fucking scream.” 

“I told him! I told him that if he ate the rest of them I’d beat his ass.” Anthony explains throwing his arms in the air. 

“That is just embarrassing. You should both be embarrassed of yourselves.” Sarah is still shaking her head. She ignores her brother’s protests and walks away. Once she’s in her room and the door is closed behind her, the excessive arguing beyond it only continues. She takes out her piccolo and decides to practice until they decide to shut up. 

A minute later Anthony is banging on her door, “for the love of god please stop!” he shouts but the high pitched fluttering drowns him out. Even when Sarah suspects they’ve gone into separate rooms, she toots onwards, playing song after song. 

She actually enjoys practicing. Her ears may be begging her to stop but the vibrations coursing through the little instrument radiate to her fingers and give her some sort of deep satisfaction. 

Once her mouth starts to ache, she calls it quits and shoves the piccolo into its case.

During dinner Mark delivers some pretty horrible news. 

“Okay do not freak,” he says, quickly gaining everyone’s attention. Their father’s eyes are sharp and his lips already press into a frown. Mark isn’t even off probation from his last stunt.

It takes him a moment to work up the nerve to say, “Kim is....pregnant.” 

A universal _holy shit_ vibes across the table and no one says anything. 

After an entire minute of nothing, Mr. Charter abruptly stands. His expression is filled with flames and his movements are rigid and curt. He shoves his chair into the table and takes his plate into the kitchen. Mark is definitely not unfamiliar with his father's ugly patterns. He stands, eyes darting around the table as if he were searching for a savior. When no one volunteers any help, he swallows hard and then makes for a frantic escape. 

He disappears out the back door right before the banging and the slamming start. No one else moves or says anything; they only listen to Mr. Charter close cabinets with too much force and kick angry dents into the dishwasher. 

“Looks like he just destroyed his every last chance of redemption.” Gavin says in attempts to break the tension. He cracks a small smile but no one else does. Their mother looks at him wildly. 

“This isn’t funny,” she snaps finally breaking out of whatever trance Mark had managed to seal her in. She rises to her feet, takes one glance at the rest of her children before slowly treading into the kitchen. A few minutes later she and her husband are shouting at each other. 

Sarah doesn’t listen to what they’re saying. She’s already rattled by the news of becoming an aunt; she doesn’t want to think about her parents impending divorce too. _Mark you really know how to take it the extra mile._

She doesn’t want to talk to her brothers who usually make everything worse, so she takes Marks initiative and leaves.

She heads over to Richie’s where she finds him and Eddie laying on the bed watching tv, they both jump when she enters the room. She hardly glances at them before saying, 

“Mark knocked up his girlfriend,” then she’s pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips and a frown running deeper than just on her lips. 

“What? Isn’t he like 14?” Eddie says and that is not what Sarah wants to hear. 

“15,” she corrects though it’s not much better and _fuck._

He’s not even old enough to have a job. Her family’s financial status isn’t exactly outstanding so to think they’d have to be supporting a _goddamn baby. Double fuck._

“This is really bad.” Sarah says. 

“At least it wasn’t you.” Richie shrugs and it only makes Sarah want to beat the holy shit out of him. 

“Oh wow you’re right Richie! I forgot to be thankful!” The sarcasm is heavy, but her stare is even heavier, “why are boys so fucking stupid,” she mutters mostly to herself but loud enough that they both hear it.

“Well I’m sorry, I’m just trying to look on the bright side of things,” Richie defends. Eddie thumps him in the head and says,

“shut up.” Eddie at least seems to understand that Sarah isn’t in the mood to be rationed with. All she wants to do right now is complain and worry without interruption. 

They listen to her go on about how stupid, irresponsible, and inconsiderate Mark is. How he’s about to ruin what’s left of her shambled family and how completely and undeniably fucked up everything is. 

After the rest of the Charter family is mentioned. They slowly start to filter their way into her rant. She bashes all of them as if she’s the biggest bitch on the playground and they’re the weird smelly kids who loiter near the sandbox and eat their boogers for lunch.

Her speech seems to lasts for ages but eventually, she runs out of fuel. She finishes with a ‘fuck’ and both boys look at each other then back to her. 

“Better?” Eddie questions.

“Yeah.” 

“Can I say something?” Eddie continues, he sits up from his slouched position next to Richie and looks sincere when he asks. 

“Sure.” 

“Well first off you should probably find your brother and figure out what his plans are before getting ahead of yourself. I mean how do you even know if she’s going to keep it? Secondly, you might want to see a family therapist.” Eddie suggests that last part with a shrug. Sarah almost glares, but figures he’s probably right. 

Mark never had the chance to explain himself, no one wanted to hear it. Maybe they were planning on an abortion or giving it up, or anything to make the situation less pressing. 

“You’re right,” she says, then watches Richie’s expression spark astonishment. He looks from Sarah to Eddie then back over to her. 

“I’ve never heard her say that,” Richie says quietly to Eddie, Eddie ignores him and keeps his eyes trained on Sarah. 

“Richie fuck off, why is your friend taking this more seriously than you? I’m obviously upset.” Sarah snaps, her face scrunches up and she slits her eyes at him. 

“Sorry sorry, I’m not good with emotions.” 

“Yeah I know,” she barks then stands in silence for a few moments. She was trying to give Richie a chance to redeem himself so when he doesn’t take it, she becomes even more annoyed and pivots out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

She’s just pissed. Pissed at her brother for being an idiot, pissed at her parents for handling everything horribly, and pissed at the rest of the men in her life for acting like fucking clowns. _Fuck Richie, it's like he doesn't care about anything._

She storms over to Mikala's and lets her have an earful too. 

-

Her brother hides at Kim’s for a few days and when he returns, he bears the news that they do indeed plan on keeping the baby. Sarah thinks that’s the worst decision he’s ever made. 

She doesn’t want to think about her family problems right now so she’s letting Richie fuck her for the fourth time today. It’s the most they’ve done in a while and by round five Richie feels like he’s fizzling out. 

She is feeling a bit sore and when Richie says, “I need a minute,” she rolls out of bed and hobbles into the bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror then wipes the black streaks of mascara out from under her eyes. She needs a shower. 

Richie crowds into the bathroom, he immediately walks over to the toilet and drops his boxers, after he’s done pissing, he turns the shower on. He waits a few seconds for the water to heat up before stripping his shirt and getting in. Sarah wiggles out of her underwear and slips off the thin tee shirt she had been wearing then hops in behind him. 

“Hi,” he greets looking over his shoulder with a with a lazy smile. Sarah’s chest swells a little. 

“Hi,” she says back while reaching for the body wash, she squirts a decent sized blob into her palm then lathers it all over his shoulders, she continues downward, washing his back. Sarah finds a feeling of warmth spread through her just by doing things like this, whether it be making Richie pasta or shampooing his hair, she just likes being near him. 

Twenty minutes later they’re both toweling off and getting dressed. Sarah sighs. 

“They’re keeping the baby,” she informs him, figuring she’d have to talk about it at some point. 

“Jesus,” Richie says, rubbing a towel over his dripping mop of hair, his face crushes together, “I couldn’t imagine having a baby now let alone at 15.” 

“They’re idiots,” Sarah states picking her own towel up off the floor, she walks over to Richie and offers to take his, he hands it over and she throws them both into his hamper. 

“I mean at least you won’t really have to deal with it,” Richie makes his way over to his dresser, he picks up the deodorant sat on top of it and slathers it under his arms. “Perks of skipping town I guess.” 

Sarah doesn’t say anything for a long time, her heart starts pounding. 

“Richie,” she says eventually, “I was thinking about staying.” 

Now it’s Richie’s turn to omit silence, he turns to look at her, his mouth opens, then closes and opens again. “What do you mean?” 

“I was thinking about going to Walsh,” she elaborates, then moves to sit on the edge of the bed, she stares at her hands, “I just think it’s what’s best for me right now.” 

“Sarah,” The way Richie says her name makes Sarah look at him, “that isn’t what you want.” 

“How do you know?,” she tries to harden up her features but it’s difficult when Richie’s looking at her like that.

“It’s not for me right? You’re not going to Walsh for me.” Richie presses and Sarah doesn’t understand why he sounds like that or why he looks so worried. She swallows, 

“No I-” she cuts herself off and takes a minute to think about how she _really_ feels. _So what? Maybe it is true. Maybe Richie makes her feel warm and safe and at home. Maybe she doesn't want to lose that._ “Maybe a little,” she’s surprised hearing herself when say it but her eyes bleed honesty and Richie looks pale. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Richie says slowly, he licks his lips like his mouth has gone dry and runs a hand through his curls. 

“Why? Don’t you want me here?” Sarah’s eyebrows knit together and Richie’s reaction has her confused, she understands the uncertainty because this wasn’t her plan but she doesn’t understand the red alarm fogging up his eyes. 

“That’s not it I just- you should go, Sarah, it’s your dream.” Richie says but Sarah’s tired of being told what she wants. 

“What if it isn’t. What if my dream is you.” Sarah doesn’t miss a beat but Richie misses every single one. 

“That’s- I-” Richie stammers, and now Sarah’s starting to feel offended. _What the fuck is his problem?_ It’s her decision, no one’s forcing her, no one’s even encouraging her.

She waits for him to sort out what he wants to say but when he comes up with nothing, an unpleasantness starts churning in her stomach.

“Okay so what I’m understanding is that you don’t want me to stay at all, even if it’s what I want.” 

“No, I just know this isn’t what you truly want.” 

“I just don’t want to leave you,” the hurt she’s starting to feel from the firm way Richie’s rejecting the idea is becoming a lot.

“Sarah-” 

“Whatever,” she snaps stuffing that hurt somewhere where it can’t reach her, she gets up and grabs her belongings. 

“Hey,” Richie says but he does nothing to stop her from leaving. 

-

Eddie.

They don’t act like a couple, because well, they aren’t a couple. Richie and Sarah are a couple. Richie and Eddie are best friends.

But there are times where Richie’s hand lingers over Eddie’s for a little longer than it should, and times where Eddie’s head finds a place in the crook of Richie’s arm. There are times when they feel like a couple. 

And they’ve always been close, intimate in different ways, but something changed somewhere in between. The innocence they shared no longer separated them, everything got heavier, deeper, and they didn’t even talk about it.

At first it was hard, really hard, neither of them knew what was happening, or where all these feelings were coming from, and stopping it had seemed out of the question. 

Richie hadn't hidden the way he felt. He had an array of feelings; reluctance, guilt, fear. They made him itch all over, made him question, made him hesitate. He always hesitated before he touched Eddie.

But all that bad never weighed enough to stop it, to stop them. And eventually, with time, Richie’s harsh lines faded; he became softer, more comfortable, and how they were, became normal.

But as Richie stands here, telling him Sarah might not be going to New York, Eddie feels a bit choked.

“Oh,” he says but what he really wants to do is melt into the floor. He doesn’t say anything else. 

“She wants to go to Walsh with me,” he adds.

 _"Oh,"_ Eddie repeats. _They're_ supposed to be going to Walsh together.

After Eddie can barely stand the silence, he says, “What did you say?” 

“I encouraged her to leave and she got mad at me.” Richie looks a bit undone like he’s been doing a lot of thinking. He’s never been much of a thinker. Eddie looks at the floor and the silence thickens again. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“If she stays- what are you going to do?” Eddie breathes, his head is starting to hurt and he’s scared of his own question. 

“I don’t know,” Richie answers and it is not the answer Eddie was looking for, it doesn’t make him feel good. 

“So you’ll just stay with her and I’ll just be your-” Eddie doesn’t finish, the edge in his voice causes Richie’s eyes to broaden and his lips to part. 

“Eddie,” he says a bit brokenly but he doesn’t deny it and that’s enough to make Eddie go a little crazy. 

“I’m fucking tired of this Richie, you obviously care about her feelings more than mine.” Eddie’s jaw sets and now Richie looks on edge. 

“You know it’s not like that- I just don’t want-” 

“To hurt her, yeah I know- but what about me?” Eddie’s throat hurts and what’s left of Richie’s expression crumbles. 

“Eddie,” his name sounds mushy in Richie’s mouth and they never talk about these sorts of things. but that’s part of the problem.

“Don’t you-” Eddie starts but he doesn’t finish. _Don't you know how I feel about you? Do you even care?_

Eddie scrambles off of Richie’s bed and slips on his shoes, he picks up his house keys and opens the door. 

“Eddie stop.” Richie says more forcefully as if he were trying to regain his composure. Eddie does not stop, he glances back once then shuts the door behind him and goes home. 

-

Eddie knows Richie cares about him, but he also knows Richie cares about Sarah. 

Richie says he doesn’t want to hurt her, Eddie knows it’s more than that. He knows Richie, he knows how bad he feels and how he really does love Sarah.

Eddie doesn’t doubt that Richie has feelings for him, if he didn’t, none of this would even be happening. As for how strong those feelings are, he often wonders.

Eddie doesn’t answer Richie’s calls or the few texts he sends around midnight, he just wants some- space. He doesn’t remember when breathing got this hard but he’s really sick of it. 

The next day at school, everyone’s mad at Richie. Sarah doesn’t say much and Eddie barely looks at him. But when he does, he finds Richie is looking a bit worn. 

Usually when Maxwell Donagin turns around in his seat and leans onto Eddie’s desk with an idle smile and a covet stare, Eddie tells him to fuck off. Maxwell usually laughs before he leans in even closer to pat Eddie on the cheek and say something obnoxious. Today, however, Maxwell routinely does just that, but Eddie does not tell him to fuck off. 

Instead, Eddie smiles back. The surprise that creeps into Maxwell’s eyes make him smile even wider. 

“You eat something bad, Eddie?” Maxwell asks twirling his pencil through his fingers before pointing the eraser towards Eddie’s face.

“Nope, just looking for someone to numb the pain that life has bestowed upon me.” Eddie says dryly, making Maxwell’s lips spread into the biggest grin Eddie’s ever saw.

“Is that so?” he plays along, quirking up an eyebrow. 

They have an actual conversation after that and somehow it leads into the exchanging of phone numbers. Eddie finds that he feels slightly better. _Take that Richie._

When Maxwell texts him later that night and he realizes it isn’t Richie, he actually ends up feeling worse. 

-

“I see you’re ignoring Richie,” Bill says before he pops the lid off of a paint can. He picks up a wooden ruler and plunges it into said paint can. As he stirs, Eddie watches the thick orange paint swirl around and around.

“Yepp,” he answers not lifting his eyes. 

“Care to elaborate?” 

Eddie sighs, he really wouldn’t. Richie is a topic he doesn’t want to think about right now. He puts his attention somewhere productive and starts prepping the giant wooden board they’re about to destroy with their limited art skills. 

“Not really,” he finally says, he picks up a brush, dips it into a tub of gesso then slathers it across the board. 

“Is it about Sarah? She doesn’t look very happy with him either.” Bill pries, Eddie wants to spray paint at him. 

“Yeah, she might be staying.” 

“Staying...as in not going to New York?” 

“Yepp.” 

“Oh jeez,” Bill moves on to another can of paint and repeats his previous actions. 

“She’s mad because he told her she should go, I’m mad because if she stays- I don’t think he’ll leave her.” Saying it out loud almost makes Eddie cringe, it makes him sort of want to cry too. Bill doesn’t say anything for a minute. 

“You really think so?” Bill asks eventually, his expression is kind of hard to read. Eddie goes quiet, he thinks about it. _Does he truly believe that?_ “I don't know,” Eddie says once the second coat of gesso is dried and it’s already been several minutes since Bill had asked the question. For a moment he thinks maybe Bill had forgotten what they were talking about but then he says, 

“I think he would choose you.” 

That puts a stutter in Eddie's chest and he goes still. 

“Maybe.” 

“Can I say something?” Bill starts, he puts a pause on whatever his hands are up too and looks over at Eddie. Eddie meets his gaze then nods, Bill continues, “I think what he’s doing is really fucked up and that you should put whatever the fuck you two are doing on hold and let him sort it out for himself.” 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek because he knows Bill is right, he should have done that a long time ago. But the same reason he didn’t then is the same reason he doesn’t know if he can now. Pulling away from Richie would hurt. 

“I know, it’s what I should do- but-” Eddie drops his shoulders, this is just making him sad. 

“Look, I know Richie, I know he’s not evil and I know he’s not doing this just to play you guys, but I also know that in his stupid brain he probably thinks this is the best way to avoid disappointing anyone, it may be the worst solution ever, but it’s Richie being Richie, that being said, he needs to learn that this isn’t okay. Something needs to change and if he ends up with you, great, if not, well, fuck him.” 

Eddie exhales deeply, he picks up a clean paintbrush and submerges it into the orange can of paint, he picks it out with a decent sized blob collecting at its end and swats it down onto the board, orange jets out from underneath it, reminding Eddie of a firework.

“Fuck off Bill,” he mumbles eventually, but there isn’t any heat behind it and Bill just laughs. 

“You’re not stupid Eddie, you know all of this already, you should just think about it.” Bill shrugs, he walks over and crouches down next to Eddie, “now whoever put us in charge of painting this mural is a goddamn idiot.” 

-

Eddie learns that laying in bed and listening to sad music is not a good way to quiet the pinning that’s made a home in his chest. He ends up thinking too hard, his thoughts coming out diverse and erratic, most of them are unhelpful, some incoherent, a lot end up being lies and a lot are probably truthful. It’s hard for him to address them. 

Richie’s frantic messaging and frequent phone calls let Eddie know he’s a tad worried, he should be. Eddie is really considering taking Bill’s advise, he knows he should, he knows it’s the best thing to do, for him and for Richie. 

He doesn’t answer the texts and he doesn’t answer the calls. 

To distract himself, he downloads tinder. _Stupid,_ he knows but a great time killer and a great way to remind himself that there are others out there that desire him. Before he started messing around with Richie, there had been _others,_ he’d left a lengthy string of boys behind him, because yeah, Richie was the only one for him.

He scoffs at the thought and logs into his old account, the notifications come streaming in and it puts a slight smile on his lips. He spends half the night talking to a boy named Blake and another one called Rodrick. The attention is nice. 

But when he drags himself out of bed the next morning, he sort of wants to die. He looks at the unread messages Rodrick sent after he passed out and he smiles, he sends one apologizing for falling asleep on him and gets dressed. 

During first period Maxwell slips into the seat next to him. He’s started to entertain the idea of Maxwell after a couple interesting text conversations, and now that Blake’s been blowing up his phone all morning, he feels like he’s slipping into old habits. 

He greets Maxwell with a smile and when Jule Robinson says, 

“Why are you in my seat?” Maxwell replies with, 

“I’m trying to get it in with Eddie. You understand right?” 

Eddie turns and kicks him in the shin, Jule looks scared. She doesn’t say anything else, instead, she scurries off in search for Maxwell’s old desk. 

Richie’s staring at them. 

“You’re a dick,” Eddie says, ignoring Richie, and ignoring how feels energized he feels from the way he’s being stared at. Maxwell grins his big stupid grin. 

“That may be true but I also have one that would like to be inserted into you.” 

“That was the worst thing anyone has ever said to me,” Eddie laughs. 

Maxwell smiles harder, then his eyes flicker beyond Eddie and starts to waver. _Richie,_ Eddie thinks momentarily, then makes the mistake of turning around. 

Richie features are cold and his focus is pointed directly at Eddie, his expression isn’t a familiar one. Eddie doesn’t allow himself to look for much longer, he forces his attention back onto Maxwell, he looks like he’s about to ask a question. Eddie beats him to it, 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s having marital problems.” 

Maxwell nods, his smile returns. 

-

Lunch makes everything worse. 

Apparently Richie and Sarah are on speaking terms because she’s leaning into him talking into his ear when Eddie sits down next to Ben. Shortly after, Maxwell sits down next to Eddie. 

When Maxwell asked if he could sit at Eddie’s lunch table, Eddie had said yes purely with the intention of seeing Richie’s face freeze over again like it had during English. He should probably be shameful that he’s searching for jealousy like this, but all it does is reassure him that Richie has feelings. 

Maxwell strikes up at least one conversation with everyone sitting at the table, everyone but Richie. Eddie doesn’t ignore the way Richie’s lips press into a thin line or how they haven’t budged since Maxwell started talking. 

“Yeah I’m not much of a fast food type of guy,” Maxwell says, he’s talking to Ben but Eddie hadn’t been listening so he’s confused when Maxwell flashes him a grin then continues with, “So you don’t have to worry, our first dates gonna be somewhere spectacular.” 

_Oh,_ Eddie smiles with a full set of teeth and says, “can’t wait.” This fuels Maxwell, his cheeks tint pink from smiling so hard and his eyes appear to be singing to Eddie. Eddie didn’t know that was possible. 

In a moment of weakness, he swipes a glance Richie’s way and finds that there is a fire in his atmosphere. He also finds that Richie isn’t staring anymore, he’s glaring. 

Eddie turns away, feeling kinda jittery, he looks over at Bill who is smirking at him, Eddie shakes his head slightly and finally lets Maxwell take his attention. 

“Walk with me,” Maxwell says while standing, Eddie obeys and stands too. Maxwell stacks their treys on top of one another then picks them up, he starts to make his way over to the trash cans, Eddie follows him. 

After Maxwell dumps their trash and takes their treys up, he doesn’t go back to the table, he leads Eddie into the hallway, earning a frown from the pansy lunch monitor that never calls anyone out. 

“You weren’t kidding about that date, right?” Maxwell asks, he sounds more serious than Eddie’s ever heard him. Heaps of thoughts and feelings start jumping around in Eddie’s brain and in the midst of swatting them away, he shrugs. Maxwell sighs, “give me something to work with.” 

Eddie isn’t sure what that means so he evades the statement altogether and settles on the least detrimental thought in his mind. “Why do you want to go out with me so bad?” 

This nurtures a smile back onto Maxwell’s face, he doesn’t waste any time answering. “You’re cute, you’re funny, you’re short, you always look angry-” 

“My anger turns you on?” Maxwell laughs. 

“A little,” he says only half shrugging, “but I don’t know- I just like you.” 

Maxwell watches him like he’s waiting for a response, Eddie comes up short and he still doesn’t know what to say. 

“Well thanks,” he says awkwardly and then wants to drown himself in the water fountain. Maxwell laughs again but then his features sober up and he looks like he’s debating on what he wants to say. 

“Am I wrong to think you’ve been rejecting me this whole time because of Richie?” Maxwell says slowly. Eddie is a little floored, his mouth opens but nothing comes out.  
“Uhh,” is all he can manage. 

“I’m fucking right, I knew you guys were fucking.” 

“No-” 

“With the way he’s been looking at me, jeez, I thought he was gonna rip my throat out. Does his girlfriend know?- that was a stupid question, of course she doesn’t. Why does he even have a girlfriend? Is she some kind of beard or-” 

“Maxwell,” Eddie barks and his edges are a little frayed, Maxwell stops rambling. Eddie’s expression must have done all the talking for him because Maxwell features dim and he asks, 

“Touchy subject?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie swallows, he looks at his shoes and wants to disappear. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Maxwell suggests after a minute. 

“Not really.” Maxwell only nods. Silence fills up the lack of conversation and Eddie’s tugging on the drawstrings on his hoodie. 

“Well if you aren’t going to sleep with me, I’m down for being friends.”

“Who said I wouldn’t sleep with you?” 

-

Eddie isn’t surprised when Richie finds him in the parking lot and just about yanks him into his truck. 

“What the fuck? Maxwell? Are you fucking serious?” Richie rumbles before Eddie even has the chance to sit down properly. Eddie boils over. 

“Don’t even start Richie, you fuck someone else, I think I have the right to talk to whoever I want.” 

Richie’s anger doesn’t shake, the hardening of his eyes doesn’t go away, he actually looks even more pissed. When he opens his mouth Eddie silences him with the meanest glare he can muster. 

“Don’t you dare say some stupid shit about how _that_ is different, it isn’t, and besides we aren’t even together. I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” Eddie’s chest hurts when he says it but he doesn’t look any less frigid. Richie, however, his composure dissipates pretty quickly. Eddie doesn’t search for the hurt darkening his face, it just stands out. 

He doesn’t say anything, because there isn’t really anything to say. 

Eddie uses this flickering strength to take Bill’s advice. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Richie tries to front confidence but he ends up sounding small. 

“Exactly how it sounds. I’m over it.” 

“Eddie you don’t- you don’t mean that.” Richie's voice is a little raw and Eddie is hurting all over. 

“Well someone has to! I’m tired of feeling like shit all the time, you make me feel like shit, don’t you understand that?” 

Everything bad Eddie’s ever seen on Richie’s face is there, all of it. Eddie has to look away. 

“Eddie-” his name comes out in pieces and Eddie is collapsing, he has to get out, he needs to get away from Richie. He opens the car door and stumbles back out into the parking lot, he can feel the heat behind his eyes as his angry facade starts to diminish.

Richie calls after him but doesn’t chase him, Eddie sprints off. 

When he gets home, he cries. 

-

Richie.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Sarah asks, she stretches out on the floor, her math book laying open a few feet away from where she’d just kicked it, she gazes over at Richie. 

It’s been a few days since Eddie broke up with him, well, ended things. They were never _boyfriends_ after all. Richie can’t help but feel kind of blindsided. 

No, he didn’t know he made Eddie feel like shit, that was news to him. However, the more he reflects, the more he kind of understands. Eddie merely talking to that Maxwell fuck triggered something in him he didn’t know was there. He’s not usually a jealous person, but with the way Maxwell was talking and the way he was looking at Eddie, it still makes him stir just thinking about it. 

Richie shrugs and stays quiet, Sarah stares at him like he’s an alien. 

“Okay, great talk,” she says sarcastically, “I’m serious, you’re acting fucking weird and you’re fighting with Eddie, you never fight with Eddie.” 

That elicits some nasty thoughts, thoughts that aren’t true at all. _He left me because of you, you stupid bitch._ When in truth, it’s all Richie’s fault. Everything. And the way he deals with that is that he simply _never_ thinks about it. 

But now he’s kind of forced too.

He goes to respond but is shocked to find the urge to cry clawing its way up his throat. He tries to push it down but Sarah already saw it, she’s on him like a dog. 

“Wow Richie, hey,” she scrabbles over to gently put a hand on his back, she starts to run it up and down. Richie wants to jerk away from her touch, _he wants Eddie._

He’s being childish, and completely unfair, he knows, but he’s having a hard time getting his emotions in check. “What’s going on?” 

It’s the perfect opportunity to tell her, but he lets it go, he doesn’t know how, he doesn’t _want too._

__

Richie didn’t know any of this would happen. He didn’t know his friendship with Eddie would turn into this, he didn’t know how to handle that, he still doesn’t. He loves Sarah, he really does, but he loves Eddie too. 

Richie is awful at feelings, that’s how they ended up here, but before they were here, it was comfortable, no hard decisions, no hard feelings, at least that’s what Richie thought, he didn’t know Eddie was feeling like that. He almost blames Eddie for not communicating better.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says replacing the wobble in his voice with an edge. Sarah doesn’t stop trying to comfort him, it makes him feel worse. 

-

Eddie won’t talk to him. He won’t even look at him. 

He’s been spending a lot of time talking to Maxwell instead. 

He tries to imagine how it would feel to have Sarah talking to other boys, he doesn’t think it would feel like this. He usually has a rule about comparing the two of them, but recently it’s all he can do. He keeps backtracking, wondering when he thought this would all turn out okay. 

Between thinking about those sort of things, he thinks about Maxwell, he’s been picturing him in two different types of settings, bloody, and on the floor in front of him with a few ribs kicked in. Then naked, doing obscure, disgusting things to Eddie. 

The second image generally comes unwanted, the first one usually comes after. 

He has to do something. 

He’s miserable. 

-

He goes to Bill and Bill says, 

“Aw good, he took my advice.” 

“You’re what?”

“My advice. I told him to starve you out.” Bill says, he’s painting the front of a cardboard bush. Richie wants to kick it over and stomp on it.

“What the fuck Bill.” Bill looks up at him momentary. 

“Seems to be working.” 

“Working? Everything’s falling apart-” 

“What is? The game you’re playing? You think that’s _everything?_ Bill’s looking more serious now, his frown matches Richie’s. Richie swallows and averts his gaze downward. “You still don’t seem to get it so I’ll dumb it down so your baby brain can understand. You are a cheater.” 

“Yeah Bill I fucking know.” 

“Do you? Because it seems like you’ve created some kind of delusional reality where this is okay. It isn’t. Sarah is going to be devastated, she loves you like a fucking dog Rich and you don’t even see it. Eddie’s probably going to revert back to being the neighborhood play toy-” 

“Hey,” Richie almost growls. 

“Don’t hey me, you know how he was.” Richie doesn’t want to think about that right now. 

Bill turns his attention back to his frumpy looking bush, it could really use some contour, but Bill continues with his stippling technique. 

“All I’m trying to say is that you need to be more self-aware.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

“Don’t blow me off, I’m serious,” Bill says before he asks a hard question, “so what are you planning to do?” 

-

 

Richie stares at his bedroom ceiling and lets his minds run in circles, there isn’t much more he can do at the moment. He’s dug himself into quite the rut and he isn’t so sure what his next move is going to be, endlessly pondering about it seems to be logical. 

He misses Eddie and he misses the stability his life once had. _How did everything get so fucked up?_ He has to do something, but he’s a procrastinator at heart, every time he sees Sarah’s face he thinks _next time, next time I'll tell her_ and it gets him nowhere.

Sometimes he thinks about just letting it go, letting nature run its course, nature took out Eddie so maybe he’s meant to be with Sarah. Usually, this type of thought process is followed by another, one that tells him that’s absolute bullshit. He needs Eddie. Knowing Eddie isn’t talking to him makes it harder to get up in the morning, it makes school more strenuous and life blander. 

But Sarah, she’s also part of the equation, without her everything will no doubt be wearier. She’s one of his best friends and losing her is going to be one of the worst things to ever happen to him. But it’s inevitable. 

He gets a text from Bill, 

'party at 3486 market street, you better come get your boy’ 

_What the fuck does that mean_

With nothing better to do other than cry over his poor life choices, Richie picks himself up and slips into something more presentable than his ketchup-stained tee shirt and holey underwear. It takes him a minute to locate his keys, he eventually finds them in his sock drawer. 

When he’s in the hallway slipping on his shoes his mom asks, “where are you off too this late?” from the kitchen and he replies with, 

“Out.” 

When he arrives at the party house it takes him a minute to realize its Anne Hotter’s house. Anne told Richie she was in love with him in the third grade and they haven’t talked since. The only reason he knows this is her place is because of the fancy _Hotter_ engraved on the side of their mailbox. The Hotter’s are on the more wealthy side of the spectrum, and it shows, this house is _massive._

He parks in a spot where it would be easy to escape if need be. The first thing he sees is some kid throwing up in the shrubs around the side of the house, _lovely_ When he walks through doors, he is instantly taken by the vibrations of the music. The beat is familiar and all these parties seem to have the same playlist. He glances around trying to spot someone he knows, anything to diverge his attention for who he really came here for. He sees Beverly standing next to Grant Wetch and some other football junkies. 

He takes his time approaching them, scooping out the rest of the house as he does. Beverly sees him before he reaches her and she smiles at him. 

“You come alone?” She asks above the music, Richie gives a nod right before a shitfaced Becky Garrison bumps into him and spills some of her drink on his shoes. She slurs a ‘sorry Richie’ in his face and it doesn’t smell too good. Beverly laughs. 

“Do you know where Bill is?” Richie asks, she raises an eyebrow.

“You’re looking for Bill? Thought you’d be looking for Eddie, that boy is as messy as messy gets,” she responds, then moves her head from side to side like she’s looking for someone. “Last time I saw him he was in the kitchen, but that was twenty minutes ago.” 

“Thank’s Bev,” Richie reaches up and squeezes her upper arm before he heads for the kitchen. He doesn’t find Bill but he does find a very drunk Stanley Uris. 

Stan’s laughing really hard at something and when he sees Richie, he laughs even harder.  
“Oh fuck,” Stan chokes, “that was good.” 

“What was?” Richie asks. 

“Your mom,” Stan erupts into another fit of laughter and Richie is pretty lost. 

“He’s had eight shots of patron,” Ben says appearing out of nowhere. Richie looks over and Ben’s holding a bottle of fireball, as he eyes it, Ben laughs. 

“And how fucked are you?” Richie interrogates.

“Not very, I’m holding this for a friend.” 

“Right,” Richie says before asking, “have you seen Bill?” he pauses, “or Eddie?” 

“Bill? No. But I saw Eddie stumble his way upstairs with some rando a little while ago.” 

Richie wishes Ben didn’t say that. He can feel his entire demeanor shift almost immediately, funny how a few words can do that to you. 

“Thanks,” Richie grits before he takes off, he moves through the crowd as swiftly as he can, he trying his best to remain calm as he searches for the staircase. When he locates it, he sprints up them two at a time, trying to keep his homicidal thoughts at bay. It really isn’t working out. 

He bangs on every single door and opens them if it isn't locked, most aren’t, he gets the pleasure of walking in on a few of his classmates breeding. 

Eventually, he finds Eddie, who's in bed, with a guy called Jamie. Richie goes a little crazy. 

He marches into the room and rips the blankets off of them, it isn’t a sight he wants to see, so he destroys it.

“Get the fuck out of the bed.” Richie demands, there’s heat seeping from his throat and into every word. 

“Hey hey what the fuck?” he hears Jamie say, Richie ignores him. 

“Now!” he seethes, Eddie really does look fucked up, he doesn’t move, he drowsily stares up at Richie. 

“Fuck off Richie,” he says then reaches for Jamie who’s on his way out of the bed. 

“No,” Richie growls and lurches forward, he grabs Eddie by the arm and jerks him out of the bed. “We’re fucking leaving.” 

Jamie’s already up and dressing, glancing over at them from time to time, he doesn’t say anything, he just looks very uncomfortable. Eddie stands there, halfheartedly trying to pry himself out of Richie’s grasp, Richie only tightens his hold. There’s an entire fire inside his body. 

He spots Eddie’s clothes on the floor and bends down to pick them up, he shoves them into Eddie’s chest and lets go of his arm. 

“Get dressed,” Richie says with a tight jaw. Defeated, Eddie gets dressed. When he’s done, Richie retakes Eddie’s arm and pulls him through the room, then through the house, and through the yard and into his truck. He shoves Eddie into the passenger seat and then slams the door On his walk to the driver's side he tries to reason with his anger, talk himself down. It doesn’t work. 

The drive back to Richie’s is deathly silent but then Eddie hiccups and says, 

“You had no right to do that.” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Richie's voice is very sharp and much meaner than he would have anticipated, it must have surprised Eddie too because he doesn’t say anything for a minute.

“You fuck her,” Eddie says like all of this was him trying to prove a point. 

Richie doesn’t respond. 

He pulls into his driveway and Eddie gets out almost instantly, he storms over to the front door, but not before he trips over nothing. He recovers quickly and doesn’t wait up for Richie. Eddie’s already in his room by the time he catches up to him. 

It’s a long time before either of them say anything. Eddie sits at the end of the bed, staring at the floor, looking like he’s trying not to puke. Richie sits at the head of the bed, his legs tucked in, his elbows resting on top of them, he’s trying to make his thoughts make sense. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie says, then it’s quiet again. He watches Eddie take a deep breathe before Eddie lifts his head and looks forward.

“You picked her.” Eddie sounds much more different than he had before. Richie is halfway startled. 

“I didn’t,” Richie replies, in his mind he wills Eddie to turn around. “You broke up with me.” 

“I thought you would- I don’t know,” Eddie cuts himself off with a head shake. 

“I’m getting there Eddie, I’m just trying to work up the nerve.” Richie explains, his chest feels heavy and he adds, “do you really think that I’d let you go?”

Now Eddie turns around, his eyes look blurry. 

“I don’t know,” his voice breaks. 

“Well I wouldn’t, I would never let go of you.” Richie says it firmly and as he looks Eddie in the eyes. Eddie starts crying. He crawls over to Richie and Richie opens his arms to take him into his chest. 

He reaches a hand up and lays his palm on Eddie’s cheek, weaving his fingertips into his hair. “I thought- I thought-” Eddie stammers, he sounds drunk and tired. 

“It’s okay,” Richie whispers before he lays them both down, he pulls the comforter up and draws Eddie closer to him. The relief he feels just having Eddie near him is astounding, he tries to ignore it but his heart is pounding. 

-

In the morning Richie wakes up before Eddie, that usually doesn’t happen but considering the circumstances, it’s understandable. Richie untangles himself from Eddie’s limbs and climbs out of bed. For a minute he just stands there, staring at Eddie, he eventually has to remind himself why he had gotten up in the first place.

He heads for the kitchen where he fills a glass of water and grabs a bottle of Advil, he shakes a couple into his hand before shoving it into the medicine cabinet. Back in his room, he closes the door, the noise makes Eddie stir. Richie sets the glass and the pills on his bedside table then reaches for his phone. 

He sits on the brink of his bed and browses mindlessly until he feels a tug on the back of his shirt. He twists around and finds Eddie gripping his tee shirt, gazing up at him half asleep, he groggily motions to the water. Richie grabs it and hands it over to him. Eddie lets go of Richie to take it from him, he forces himself to sit up and then takes small sips with short breaks in between. Richie scoops up the Advil and offers them over, Eddie stares at Richie’s hand for a second but he takes them. 

“Did you black out?” Richie asks when the silence becomes overbearing. 

“No, I remember most of the night.” Eddie’s voice is faint, he’s still holding the Advil in his palm. “Why? Was I that fucked up?” Richie shakes his head. 

“No, I was just wondering.” 

“Wondering if I remember you ripping me out of bed during sexual intercourse?” Eddie’s tone warps into something a little more vile. Richie feels that same red from before slam back into him. 

“Eddie,” he says it like it’s a warning, stern and cold. He turns to face him. Eddie looks a mess, his hair is roughed up and his eyes are tired, but most of all he looks crumbled. 

“Don’t _Eddie_ me,” he says looking right back into Richie’s eyes with his own foggy ones, he does his best to return Richie’s stony demeanor, but he’s hazy. It’s then Richie realizes he’s going at this all wrong, he softens. 

“Eddie please,” he knocks his voice down a few pegs and pulls his eyebrows together. “Please don’t do that, I know you hate me and I know this is how you must feel but I’ll never touch Sarah again if it means I don’t have to see you like that anymore. I can’t deal with it, I can’t-” Richie cuts his rambling short to take a breather, he stares down at his bed sheets. “I’m going to end it you know.” 

“Why haven’t you then?” Eddie asks, he sounds more normal now. 

“Because it’s going to be hard, losing her is going to be hard.” Richie glances up, “do you understand?” Eddie watches him in silence for a moment before he nods slowly. “I will lose her over this.” 

“I know,” Eddie whispers, he sets the glass of water down and slouches against the headboard. He sighs. 

“I’m- I’m just asking for a little patience.” Richie stammers, Eddie nods again, but he doesn’t say anything. 

-

Richie’s in a weird place right now. Eddie isn’t hating him, but he isn’t making an effort to be around him. Sarah’s clinging to him like crazy for some reason and his dog won’t stop throwing up under his bed. All of these events have led to a lot of confusion and a lot of strange smells. 

He takes his dog on a walk hoping she’ll get the hint and empty her stomach contents onto the grass instead of his carpet. She doesn’t, but she does choose to take a shit on Wallace Jones front yard and for that, he pats her on the head. Jones sucks.

During his outing he runs into Mark, he has his earbuds in and is walking a dog that isn’t his. This dog is small, mostly black, with a spill of white down it’s back. It doesn’t look like any specific breed, Richie assumes it’s a mutt. 

Mark meets his eyes as they draw closer to one another. Richie doesn’t think Mark is going to speak to him until he takes out an earbud. Richie stops walking when Mark is in front of him. 

“Hey,” Mark greets. 

“Hi,” Richie replies then drops his gaze downward, it falls on the dog. Its tail wags as it stares up at him. “Who’s dog is that?” 

“Oh, this is Mex, he’s Kim’s dog.” Richie nods, then Mark says, “she told me taking care of him would be good practice for the baby.” 

Richie’s eyes go slightly more round and he feels kind of awkward. “I don’t know how accurate that is,” Richie says cautiously. Mark shrugs. 

“I just do as I’m told.” Richie looks at him closer and finds so many things wrong in the curve of his face. He looks tired, maybe even a little older. Richie guesses that should be expected when your youth is dwindling within the span of nine months. Richie feels sorry for him. 

Mark looks down at Richie’s dog, “I didn’t know you had a dog.” 

“We only got her a year ago, her names Rosie.” Mark wraps the leash around his palm a couple times then makes a fist, he takes a step forward and crouches down in front of Rosie. He uses his free hand to stroke her head a few times, he’s smiling now. Richie sees a 15-year-old again. 

“She’s really cute.” he says through a grin, he pats her on the back of her neck, then Mex wanders over. A silence falls over them as they watch the dogs sniff each other out. 

An avalanche of questions slide up Richie’s throat. He wants to know how much Mark will actually change. Sarah’s drilled so many scenarios into his head that it’s all he can think about as he stands there in front of him. It makes him think about what he would do if Sarah were pregnant. _He would run away with Eddie._

Of course he wouldn’t. It’s what he would be tempted to do, most likely, but he’d never leave Sarah like that.

But Mark’s a different type of guy, for him, fleeing might not be so out of the ordinary. At least that’s what his sister seems to think.

Mark stands up a little straighter, he’s still shorter than Richie, puberty hasn’t fully grown on him yet. 

“I gotta get back to Kim’s, I’ll see ya around.” Mark says, and Richie is a little relieved, it’s not that he minds talking to Mark, he just doesn’t know what to say. Is it rude to ask questions? He isn’t sure how open Mark is to talk about it, he isn’t even sure how Mark feels about the situation. Richie doesn’t want to see any misery swell in his expression, he doesn’t want to see any anticipation either, he knows it would be gone in a few months.

Richie watches him go just as Rosie jumps at his leg, she’s getting antsy. He takes her another block before turning back. When he gets home his mom is laying on the sofa, she looks ill. 

“Come talk to me son,” she calls as soon as Richie steps into the breezeway, he bends down to free Rosie of the leash then ponders whether or not to ignore her. 

He walks on the outskirts of the living room and decides he doesn’t have the energy. He walks into his room and closes the door. 

A few minutes later his phone is buzzing against his thigh, he pulls it from his pocket. 

‘You wanna come to El’s party on Friday night?’

It’s a text from Mike. Richie isn’t sure how he’ll be feeling Saturday but he replies with ‘okay’ anyways.

-

Richie never volunteered to help Eddie and Bill with their set design bullshit, he was just expected too. 

Eddie’s been bitching at him for the past ten minutes. Apparently, he keeps doing everything wrong. Bill thinks so too but at least he corrects him nicely. Eddie’s been mean lately, Richie tries not to think about it. 

“Oh you guys that looks great!” Sarah says as she walks into the theater, she comes to a halt when she makes it to the front of the stage. She props her elbows up on its edge and takes a closer look. 

“If anything is fucked up it’s Richie’s fault.” Eddie shouts from somewhere backstage. 

“Lay off Edward!” Richie retaliates, he receives a bloat of silence in response. 

Sarah smiles up at him, he makes his way over to her and sits down, throwing his legs over the brink of the stage. Sarah moves closer to him then lays her arms across his lap, she sinks into them. He doesn’t touch her hair like she’s expecting him too. 

“You wanna come over tonight?” she asks, half of her mouth is pressed against her arm and the other half is smashed into his leg. 

“Uhh-” he stalls, “I actually have plans with Eddie.” It isn’t true but he doesn’t want to tell her about the party he’s planning to attend.

“Oh,” she says sounding disappointed, Sarah picks her head up and looks into his face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. Going to parties is not productive, going over to Sarah’s and spilling his deepest darkest secrets would be a much better use of his time. The thought alone doesn’t convince him. 

“What are you doing? Can I come?” _Oh shit,_ Richie should have seen that coming, his mind takes off, trying to conjure up another half-ass lie. 

“We’re going underwear shopping.” _What in the fuck?_ Worst lie he’s ever told. Sarah must think so too because she squints at him. 

“Okay,” she says slowly, blinking. 

“Richie get the fuck up, go down to the pit and dismantle the drum set,” Eddie says appearing out of nowhere, Richie jumps slightly and turns to look at him. 

“What why?” 

“Because the band needs it, idiot.” Eddie says, he rolls his eyes and Richie watches him stalk over to where the curtain spills onto the side of the stage, there, he picks up a keyboard stand and lugs it about ten feet to the right. Richie sighs, he fidgets a little as if warning Sarah to move, she retracts and he gets up. 

He obeys and Sarah hangs around the perimeter of the pit while he does so. 

“What did you do to Eddie to make him hate you so much?” she questions flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

“Nothing, he’s always like that,” Richie responds prying the snare from its stand and setting it off to the side. 

“Sure.” Sarah looks elsewhere for a second and Richie’s struggling to unscrew one drum from the other. Suddenly she perks up like she’s remembered something, “Ooo, so for the trip I was researching fun activities to do around the area and they have a dolphin watch cruise I kind of want to check out and there’s also a place we could go to watch baby sea turtles hatch! That would be so cute.” She’s grinning and her rambling doesn’t end there, banana boating and parasailing are also on her to do list. Richie’s in the middle of wondering how he’s going to fork up all the extra cash for this shit when he glances over and catches Eddie watching them. 

Eddie turns away almost immediately and it sends a chill throughout Richie’s body. This trip is over a month away, he didn’t even think about how different things could be by then. How different things _should_ be. He’s dragging his feet, he knows, it’s so slow it’s to the point that he’s sinking, quickly. It’s making everything worse.

-

Mikala. 

Mikala sucks in every ounce of fat on her body just so she can wiggle into the dress she’s decided to wear tonight. When Diana successfully zips it up the back, she makes her way over to the mirror. She does a few squats, hoping to loosen up the fabric, then smiles at her reflection. She observes the color of her teeth, those _professional_ whitening strips were not worth the five extra dollars. 

Diana’s dress is a bit more giving so she’s sitting on Mikala’s bed, slouched against the headboard. 

“No Sarah?” Diana asks abruptly. 

“Nah she’s wallowing in self-pity because her boyfriend would rather go underwear shopping than hang out with her.” 

“Oh,” Diana says, “that’s...sad?” 

“Yes it is sad.” Sarah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and reaches for her hairspray, she attacks the strand until its slick against her head, “How do I look?” she asks giving Diana a slow turn. 

“Like a hot bitch,” Diana scrambles off of the bed and walks over to her, she bends down slightly and grabs the cut of Mikala's dress to tug it down. “There,” she says when she pulls away. 

Mikala smiles at her. 

“What about me?” Mikala glances her over to make sure her look has no loose ends. 

“You’re good to go mi amigo,” Mikala answers, she walks over to her dresser and picks up her purse. After it’s slung across her body, she yanks the top drawer open and rummages around for her pepper spray. She never goes to a party without it. 

There’s a knock on her door and she hears Dylan’s muffled voice behind it. 

“It’s open,” she calls out. 

“Holy shit,” he says as soon as the door is shut behind him, he googles at her, his eyes licking her up and down. She smirks.

“You like?” Mikala strides over to him, she puts her hands on his shoulders and leans up to kiss him hello. 

“Like? I wanna take you right here right now,” he says lowly, Mikala swats at his chest. 

“Ew please don’t.” Diana whines. 

Dylan glances over at her and laughs, “Oh Diana, I didn’t see you there.” 

“Yep here I am, watching in disgust.” 

They take another five minutes to get out of the house and into Dylan’s car. The ride over to El’s is a short one but it feels much longer, it probably has something to do with the way Dylan keeps looking at her. He’s winding her up. 

Mikala almost twists an ankle getting out of the car, Dylan wraps an arm around her to keep her from getting friendly with the driveway. He laughs, 

“Pregame much?” 

“Hey, I’m sober as fuck right now, it’s these damn shoes.” Mikala defends, she gestures towards her feet, then Dylan’s arm loosens and reverts to draping across her waist. The three of them approach the house together and after they’re inside, the mood instantly surges into Mikala. She heads straight for the kitchen to make herself a drink. 

Dylan gets caught up talking to one of his football buddies but he eventually finds her dumping half a bottle of silver tequila into one drink. He watches her for about one second before he’s swooping in to steal the bottle from her hands.

“Hey!” she shouts too loudly narrowing her eyes at him. Mikala doesn’t like to be babied, especially when it comes to her sobriety. 

“You just need to slow down babe. You always get too fucked up too fast,” he explains smiling like he’s trying to charm her into obeying him. Mikala scoffs then reaches for the orange juice that had been sitting on the adjacent counter, she pours it into her drink until her drink is brimming the top of the glass. She spills the juice before she gets the cap back on and leaves the mess for someone else to clean up. 

“I was going to make you a drink but fuck you.” Mikala says right before she takes a giant swig, “I need some cranberry juice,” she adds, lowering the cup, she scrunches up her face in disgust. Dylan laughs at her. 

Mikala scavenges the fridge for a few minutes but doesn’t have any luck. Instead, she steals the pudding that’s shoved all the way in the back behind a gallon of milk. 

She finishes the drink in the hallway while talking to Rachel Burt. Rachel insists she’s a great mixologist so she makes them both a second drink. This one’s even stronger than the first and Rachel had lied, it tastes horrible. 

During parties like this there are three places you can find Mikala, dance floor, kitchen, bathroom. After a few shots make it into her system, there is no stopping the beast that is unleashed when she hears the thumping of her favorite song and sees the sway of the crowd. After she’s drained her energy tank and sweat off most her makeup, she finds the kitchen to rejuvenate, there, she downs a few more shots of vodka as if it’s espresso. It isn’t smart, that’s why she ends up in the bathroom, holding onto the porcelain bowl with her head hung low, not even caring if a chunk or two make it into her hair. 

She’s lost count of how many drinks she’s inhaled but she’s crawling off the dance floor so that means she’s headed back into the kitchen. She’s so fucked up she can’t even make her own drink, she gets a guy called Harold to do it. Harold doesn’t need to be asked twice, he’s on it faster than Mikala can say please. Even though her perception is slightly tilted to the left, or is it the right? Nope, it’s the left. Either way, she knows what Harolds doing. She lets him flirt with her, and she may or may not flirt back. 

Harold offers over the drink and she takes it without hesitation. This is how bitches get roofied. 

The kitchen is close to empty by the time Harold pushes her up against the counter and whispers something into the shell of her ear. His warm breath tickles against her cheek and she giggles. 

Dylan walks in. He takes one look and one second to comprehend what's happening then his easy-going drunk demeanor flips into an angry macho man. He stomps over, grabs Harold by the back of his neck and yanks him back. 

“Why don’t you fuck off?” he says with a pressed jaw. Harold's eyes bug and his shoulders hunch up into Dylan’s grasp, for a minute he stays like that but he eventually pulls away. He makes a face at Dylan then cockily winks at Mikala. She giggles again. 

Dylan turns towards her, “what the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps. 

“I’m just having fun, loosen the fuck up,” her words stumble a little but she’s smiling sloppily and watching Dylan with a slight hint of admiration, seeing him all red and possessive does something to her. 

“Can’t you have fun without acting like a whore?” _Wrong choice of words buddy._ As soon as the word ‘whore’ leaves his mouth the adoration is gone and in its place is an angry drunk bitch. 

“Are you really going to stand there and call me a fucking whore? I’m the best piece of ass you’ll ever taste in you’re miserable fucking life. I got everything, class, ass, tits, personality and you’re calling me a whore like I give this shit away to just anyone! You’re the fucking whore!” Her spiel is loud and in his face, half of it’s slurred the other half is also slurred but just louder so it’s more comprehensible. Now Dylan looks frustrated. 

“You need to sit the fuck down and sober up.” 

“So now you’re calling me an alcoholic?” She bellows moving her arms around.

“In what fucking language?” Dylan shouts back, she puts her hand in his face and motions him to shut up. 

“I’m fucking done with you!” she says and starts to walk away. 

“Mikala!” he calls after her but then she’s swallowed by the mass of people in the living room. She floats around for a minute until she finds the staircase. She moves up them sluggishly and when she reaches the top she enters the first room she finds. Knowing Dylan, he’ll be hunting her within the next ten minutes, she hides in a closet that has a shower curtain as a door and entertains herself with whoever's clothes are hanging in there. 

“Ugly, ugly, ugly.” she says to herself, she starts thinking about someone actually wearing that shit and it cracks her up. At some point, she tries to remember why her and Dylan were even fighting in the first place. It hits her a few minutes later. _Harold, that homewrecker._

_Suddenly the door opens and a second later it slams shut. Mikala thinks it’s Dylan until she peeks through the curtain. It’s Richie and Eddie._

__

_Underwear,_ she thinks, but she doesn’t know why. 

__

She’s about ready to jump out with jazz hands and shout ‘surprise!’ but that was before she started listening to what they were saying. Once she catches a few words she picks up on the terse undertones and the strange atmosphere. 

__

“I thought you weren’t going to do that anymore.” Richie sounds weird, Mikala has never heard him sound like that. 

__

“Yeah and I thought when you said to be patient you meant for a few days, it’s been weeks.” Eddie snaps. 

__

“Eddie,” Richie’s tone is hard as if he were pelting Eddie with a rock. 

__

“Richie.” Eddie mimics him in a dopey voice. Mikala squints at them trying to get a better look at their faces but the room is too murky. 

__

“It wil-” 

__

“No I don’t want to listen to you anymore.” Eddie cuts him off, he turns around and starts to make his way to the door. He suddenly pauses and goes still for a quite a while, like he’s thinking about something. Finally, he turns around and inches his way back over to Richie. 

__

Mikala’s confused as fuck and her mind is swimming, so when she hears Eddie say, “Get on your knees and suck my dick,” she thinks she’s hallucinating. 

__

“W-what?’ Richie stammers, his reaction comes pretty close to Mikala's. In the split second of silence she convinces herself it’s a joke,

__

“Get on your knees and suck my fucking dick,” Eddie repeats himself, his words are more punctuated this time. A beat of nothing passes and then Richie is dropping to his knees and reaching up to undo Eddie’s pants. 

__

This is not a fucking joke. 

__

_Holy shit,_ Mikala’s brain is firing off in every direction, almost like her thoughts are running a relay race. _What the fuck is she supposed to do?_ She’s trapped in a closet while her best friends boyfriend is about to suck a dick. She doesn’t have time to feel sorry for Sarah right now, she’s too busy feeling sorry for herself. All she wants to do is plug her ears and sing over the nasty noises they’re making. She’s conscious enough to know that that would have her found out pretty quickly. She settles for putting her fingers in her ears and thinking happy thoughts. Except happy thoughts morph into the fact that Richie is sucking a dick a few feet away from her. She would really love to disintegrate into the floor right about now. 

__

After a while her thoughts start rolling into places other than the actual act of unpleasantness being performed in front of her. She wonders if fate brought her here, if God forced her to witness such horrific behavior for the good of her best friend. If she hadn’t seen this who knows how long it could have gone on?

__

She guesses for the sake of her friendship she’s happy this happened, except happy is a strong word and if she could choose otherwise she would. So let’s say she’s okay with it because she has to be, there we go, that’s more truthful. 

__

Mikala has no way of telling how long this has been going on but it feels like an eternity before one of them starts talking again. 

__

“Better?” Richie asks. Eddie doesn’t respond for a moment. 

__

“Sure,” he still sounds mad, Richie wipes his mouth with the heel of his palm. Eddie heads back over to the door and this time he pushes it open, steps out and leaves Richie alone. 

__

For a minute, Richie looks at the floor glumly, then he follows Eddie’s lead and dips out. 

__

Once alone, Mikala emerges from the closet as if she’d been held prisoner by the hangers for the last ten years. As soon as she’s out in the clear the door swings open again. _God fucking dammit_ she thinks until she realizes it’s just Dylan. 

__

“Dylan!” she squeals and flings herself into his arms. He hesitates for a second but then he wraps them around her. 

__

“Your crazy,” he mumbles into her hair. 

__

“I’ve been scarred,” she says, hugging him tighter. “Scarred and tortured.” 

__

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

__

“Adultery! That’s what!” 

__

-

__

Richie.

__

Richie isn’t very fond of Maxwell, for obvious reasons, and when he’s cornered in the hallway parallel to the library by said nuisance, he’s not happy about it. He especially isn’t happy when Maxwell starts talking.

__

“Richie! How’s it going?” he says like they’ve been friends for years, Richie stares at him. 

__

“Fine,” he mutters before he attempts to brush past him, Maxwell quickly steps in front of him. 

__

“Cool, so you know I’ve been pinning over Eddie for like ever right? Well, I was just wondering if you could help a fella out?” 

__

Richie stares at him even harder and says nothing, his face does a lot of the talking instead. After what feels like a full 60 seconds of this, Maxwell starts to squirm. 

__

“Okay-” 

__

“How about you fuck off and leave him alone, yeah?” Richie's voice is gruff and this isn’t his usual front but Maxwell’s face pisses him off and what pisses him off even more is Eddie’s name in his mouth.

__

“Wow wow did I hit a nerve or something?” Maxwell asks, his expression doesn’t drop like Richie wants it to, instead, he holds his smirk pretty steady. 

__

“Or something,” Richie says like an asshole. Maxwell starts to laugh. Richie wouldn’t have thought much about it if it hadn’t been for the look he was receiving. The corners of Richie’s lips turn downward and confusion leaks into his stony facade. 

__

“Awe man- so how long have you guys been fucking?”

__

To say Richie is startled is an understatement. His eyes round and his mouth hangs open. 

__

“The fuck are you talking about,” he croaks but he sounds flimsy. Maxwell grins even wider. 

__

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” The heat in Richie’s glare could start fires. Maxwell sighs lightly, “I’m just teasing you. It’s funny.” Richie slits his eyes and imagines burning a hole through Maxwell’s face. 

__

“Does constantly fucking with people get you off or something?” 

__

“Or something,” Maxwell smirks, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks very pleased with himself. Richie wants to beat the holy shit out of him, instead, he makes a second attempt for escape. He’s successful this time. 

__

-

__

The encounter with Maxwell has him a bit shaken. _Did Eddie actually confide in that loser?_ Lots of different scenarios in where Maxwell stumbled upon the truth run by him. Most of them are unrealistic, some make his bones rattle. 

__

He pictures Maxwell pinning Eddie to a wall, hot breath fanning over his cheeks, Eddie’s face scrunched up in disgust. He’s telling Maxwell to fuck off, he’s telling Maxwell he already has someone he loves. Maxwell doesn’t believe him, he tightens the grip he has on Eddie’s hands. 

__

“It’s Richie, It’s Richie!” Eddie blurts. 

__

That one is both unrealistic and bone splintering. 

__

He huffs and slothfully carries himself down the main hallway. He shoves his hands in his pockets after feeling the urge to fidget with his fingers. When he makes it to the auditorium, he pushes through the heavy doors and finds Sarah standing in the middle of the room ordering freshmen around. 

__

“Jarrold no! If you hit it too hard you’re going to shatter it!” Sarah shrieks, Richie catches a glimpse of her sprinting over to Jarrolds whereabouts before he’s being plowed into by a girl carrying a pile of books. The books were stacked so high she hadn’t seen him. When they clash, she drops all of them. 

__

“Sorry, sorry!” she gushes then looks at him apologetically before crouching down to collect them. Richie takes a look around the room and finds everyone is running around frantically. Show night must be closer than he had thought. He puts his attention towards the girl and belatedly says, 

__

“It’s okay,” he drops down to help her. 

__

“Thank you,” she flushes, and when her arms are full again Richie asks, 

__

“You got it? I can help you carry them if you’d like.” 

__

“Oh thank you but I think I’m good,” her voice is shaky, she carefully maneuvers around him and silently disappears into the green room hallway. 

__

Richie gets himself back on task and finds Sarah smoothing out the wrinkles of some hideous dress. 

__

“I was gonna ask if you wanted a ride home but…” 

__

“Thanks, Mikala’s gonna take me.” she responds barely glancing up. 

__

“When’s opening night?” 

__

“Friday.” 

__

“Shit,” Richie says plainly, Friday’s three days away. 

__

“Yeah, and no one here seems to even know what fucking musical we’re doing so that’s cool.” she snaps, clearly irritated. Richie takes this as a hint to back off so he leans down hesitantly and kisses her cheek. 

__

“I’ll see you later then.” 

__

This time she meets his eye. 

__

“Okay, love you.” 

__

“Love you too.” 

__

-

__

Richie’s been ignoring it. He’s been ignoring the feelings that root deep in his skin and burn holes into his chest. Those feelings are black. Ignoring them had been his only choice, to suppress them, if he hadn’t, he would have gone insane. 

__

They’ve started to push at the gates, he’s gotten a taste of how foul they can be from time to time, but he’s still fighting it. He’s fighting everything. 

__

He doesn’t know why but he pulls his phone out and texts Eddie,

__

‘i love you’ 

__

It was a random thought but it makes him feel warmer. He sinks into his bed and doesn’t wait for a response before tossing his phone elsewhere, he’s not even sure he’ll get one. 

__

He puts himself to sleep by blocking out the world. 

__

He’s awakened close to 10 pm by Sarah, she shakes him awake. He’s slumped with sleep so it takes a minute for his eyes to focus and his brain to comprehend who’s in front of him. She’s turned on the light, it’s dim, he needs to replace it. 

__

When he looks at her face she’s pale, she looks sick. 

__

“Hi?” he says groggily, he sits up then slouches over and brings a hand up to rub his face. 

__

“Hi,” she replies flatly, the curves of her features are frayed. Richie usually doesn’t get anxiety but as seconds pass and the tension rises, he notices that something is very wrong.

__

“Mikala told me something kind of crazy,” she sounds unsure and her tone is prickly, she’s looking down. Richie waits for her to explain but it seems like she’s having a tough time getting it out. “She said she saw-” she picks her gaze up and settles it on him, “saw you and Eddie together.” 

__

Richie says nothing. He’s too busy having an internal meltdown. _Together?!_ Does she mean what he thinks she means? Of course she does, she wouldn’t sound like that and her face wouldn’t look like that if she didn’t. 

__

Her features seemed to have hardened slightly after the silence draws on longer than it should. 

__

“Together as in you sucking his dick,” she says more firmly. Richie remains quiet and takes her in, she still looks like she’s willing to take an explanation about how Mikala was so drunk she’d mistake a coat hanger for a goblin. That window is small and it diminishes when Richie’s silence overpowers it. 

__

She jumps up and whirls around to face him. 

__

“You’re kidding, right? She’s fucking wrong, right?” Sarah says frantically, her eyes are wild and Richie’s expression must not be what she’s looking for. She goes cold. “You fucking pile of shit! You’re just going to say nothing?! You’re not even going to try to defend yourself?” 

__

Richie swallows and says, “I’m sorry.” 

__

This pisses her the fuck off. 

__

“You’re sorry?! For what? Say it, tell me what the fuck you did!” Sarah is screaming, and Richie is hanging his head like a dog. He knows she just wants him to admit it, voice it, but his throat has constricted and his chest feels shaky. She lunges at him. Sarah grabs his shirt and yanks him up off the bed, he stumbles to his feet and stands in front of her on wobbly legs as if he were a newborn fawn. Still gripping the fabric of his tee shirt she twists it in her fist. “Say it,” she grits. There are fires in her eyes and Richie is choking on smoke. 

__

“I’ve been sleeping with Eddie,” he rasps mournfully. There, it’s out in the open now. One second passes, then another, and Sarah goes ballistic. She slaps him in the face, hard. He doesn’t have a chance to recover before she does it again, and again and again until she’s giving him a proper beating. 

__

“You fucking suck!” she spews, “you’ve humiliated me!” she continues on and on, letting him know everything that’s wrong with him, how awful he is, how she wishes they’d never met. Richie has to grab her hands to get her to stop swinging, he looks into her matted face and finds her expression is patched together by an assortment of emotions.

__

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. Her uneven features tilt more rigid and she gives him a good hard scowl before pulling away and shoving at his chest for the last time. 

__

“I fucking hate you,” she spits, then turns around and leaves. 

__

That went more horrible than he could have imagined. 

__

-

__

Later that night when it’s four am he really feels it. 

__

He feels worse than he ever has before like every bad emotion he’s ever felt has somehow leaked into his bloodstream all at the same time. It hurts so bad it's like he’s broken a rib. He’s lost Sarah forever. 

__

Sleep won’t come when he asks for it so he distracts himself from the torment by reaching for his phone. Eddie never responded to his text. So much for a distraction. 

__

He holds his phone tighter and types out, 

__

‘she knows’

__

It’s ominous sounding but he doesn’t have the energy to think anymore about it. His phone buzzes a few seconds later. 

__

‘I know’ 

__

Eddie must be feeling it too. 

__

‘she sent me a good long book about what a filthy person I am’ 

__

‘oh and did you thank mikala for doing your dirty work? she deserves it.’

__

Texting Eddie was not a good idea, he feels like his insides are rotting. He considers not responding but he decides to send a short, 

__

‘I’m sorry,’ instead.

__

Eddie hates him, Sarah wants him dead, his body is rejecting him. He wishes he didn’t exist. 

__

-

__

He doesn’t go to school the next day, he can’t face anyone. He doesn’t know who all Sarah’s told. The only thing that would stop her from floating it around the school, is her own embarrassment, that may be his only saving grace. He feels horrible even thinking that. He deserves to have tomatoes thrown at him and evil glares of disapproval pointed his way.

__

He mopes around in his bed all day, not even having the vigor or mindset to feel sorry for himself. He takes three two hour naps and binges the most boring Netflix show he could find. 

__

Rosie scratches at his door a couple times but he doesn’t get up to let her in, she’s too pure to be touched by these revulsive hands of his. 

__

Around 7pm he goes into the kitchen to take an Advil and chug a water bottle. He eats a couple grapes and calls it dinner then slumps back into his bed where he sleeps through the night. 

__

The next day isn’t any better, it’s probably worse looking at it in hindsight. 

__

He repeats his actions from the previous day, sleeping, watching tv, reflecting. 

__

He hadn’t looked at his phone since yesterday morning so he decides to switch it up. After a good five minutes of searching, he finds it under his blankets. 

__

‘You good?’ a text from Bill. 

__

‘Wow not cool at all Richie,’ a text from Ben.

__

‘I’m coming over,” a text from...Eddie. It was sent ten minutes ago. 

__

This gets the gears in Richie’s head turning again, he perks up a little and not much time passes before Eddie’s pushing his door open and stalking over to his desk. He pulls the spinny chair out from under it and sits down, far away from Richie. He doesn’t say anything, only looks over at the tv and mindlessly watches it for a few minutes. Finally, he says, 

__

“I can smell you from here.” 

__

Richie scratches the back of his neck.

__

“I guess I haven’t showered in a few days,” he says not really feeling all that embarrassed. 

__

“That’s gross,” Eddie looks at the floor, “you haven’t been at school,” he says like Richie hadn’t been aware. 

__

“No,” Richie starts, trying to figure out what to say next, “I’m a pussy, I can’t face everyone. I’m sorry I left you alone.” 

__

Eddie finally gazes up at him. “No one knows it’s me.” 

__

“She didn’t tell?” Richie asks as if he didn’t already expect it. 

__

“No, she didn’t tell anyone  
you cheated with.” 

__

“Good,” he comments, and then it’s quiet again until Eddie says,

__

“she got you pretty good, huh?” 

__

“What?” Richie asks a little confused. Eddie motions to his eye. Richie picks a hand up and brushes his fingertips against the very top of his cheek. He stands up and walks over to the mirror on the back of his door. He’s got a black eye. 

__

It’s pretty faint, not really a black eye, more of a light purple dusting across the hollow of his eye. Geez, he doesn’t remember her punching him that hard. 

__

“Shit,” he says, and while he’s up he decides a change of clothes would probably be a good idea. He stalks over to his closet. Eddie’s eyes are on him the entire time. He picks out another shitty tee shirt and another pair of basketball shorts. He tosses them on the bed. 

__

“How’s she been?” 

__

“I think she’s mostly been masking it with anger. She won’t even look in my direction.” Eddie informs, he shuffles his phone around in his hands then adds, “you should talk to her.” 

__

“I know.” Richie says, he strips his shirt and tugs the clean one on then drops his pants and slips into the other pair. 

__

“Shouldn’t you shower first?” 

__

Richie shrugs and plops back down onto his bed. After the silence settles in, Richie breaks it by asking, 

__

“How did Mikala find out?” He realizes this was the wrong topic to bring up when Eddie mood shifts. 

__

“She was in the closet when we were at El’s and you were sucking my dick.” Eddie says like it pains him, his expression leans on the sour side. 

__

“Oh.” 

__

“Yeah who knows how long this would have gone on if she hadn’t seen,” Eddie’s working himself up now, irritated he sighs then he opens his mouth to say more but is cut off by the banging on Richie’s door. 

__

The thudding isn’t soft like his mom’s knocks and they don't resemble his father's harsher rasps either. No, there are multiple fists beating on his door. 

__

“Tozier you better open the fucking door so we can get this over with!” 

__Fuck._ _

Sarah’s brothers. 

__

With wide frightened eyes he looks over at Eddie, he finds him looking sort of...amused. 

__

Richie jumps up, frantically looking around, for what? He doesn’t know. Eddie suddenly stands and starts to walk towards the door. 

__

“Eddie!” Richie hisses, “What are you doing?” The rapping grows louder and more vicious with every passing second. 

__

“I’m going to open the door,” he says like it’s obvious. Richie figures it’s hopeless trying to talk him down so searching for a quick solution, he bolts for the window. Richie swiftly slides it open and hurls himself through, he makes a dash for his truck until he realizes he has no keys. 

__Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ _

Back in his room Eddie opens the door and steps aside to let three ferocious looking boys come marching in like a herd of elephants. 

__

The one Eddie thinks is named Anthony looks at him and says, 

__

“Where the fuck is he?” 

__

Eddie nods at the open window. All three boys glance at it, the two sprint over immediately, Anthony takes a second to thank him before following. 

__

-

__

Richie’s in his bathroom sitting on the toilet seat, he’s slouched over and everything hurts. Eddie’s standing in front of the sink, he’s running cold water over a rag. He glances over at Richie.

__

“Hey keep that ice on your eye,” he nags turning the faucet off then wringing the excess water from the washcloth. Richie raises his drooping hand and the ice is so cold on his skin it stings. He’s very uncomfortable and doesn’t help that he can feel his face throbbing. Eddie takes half a step forward then leans in with the rag to wipe away the blood that’s collected in the corner of his mouth. Richie’s lip is busted so he hisses when Eddie applies pressure. 

__

“Oh stop being a baby,” Eddie tsks, he moves the cloth up and swipes it across his cheek, there must be a scratch there because it burns. “Those boys went easy on you.” Richie wants to laugh. Instead, he cries. 

__

He doesn’t expect it. The feeling overwhelms him faster than he knows how to it down, he tries to blink the tears back but it isn’t working. Eddie goes still. 

__

“Does it hurt that bad?” he asks his voice low, almost a whisper. Richie shakes his head. He drops the bag of ice to free his hand, he wipes his face. It’s too late, the floodgates have been broken and the flow is getting faster. Eddie still hasn’t moved. 

__

“I’m sorry,” Richie snivels, “I’m so sorry.” 

__

He continues to silently cry, Eddie watches him for a long time before he takes another step closer.

__

He wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest. Richie melts into him instantly and buries his face into Eddie’s tee shirt. After a few seconds he winds his own arms around Eddie’s waist to keep him there, Richie doesn’t want him to let go. He's missed holding him. Thinking about it makes his tears hotter.

__

They stay like this for a long time. Somewhere along the way, Eddie starts to rub circles into his back and Richie stops crying. 

__

“You know, it’s my fault too,” Eddie murmurs. Richie presses his face even harder against Eddie’s chest, his sinks into the vibration of his words. It furthers the pain in his cheek, he can feel it pulsing, he tightens his grasp on Eddie anyways. 

__

“It’s mostly mine.” 

__

Eddie doesn’t argue with him, they just continue to hold each other. 

__

-

__

He goes to school on Friday and receives more than a few stares. He isn’t sure if it’s because of the cuts and bruises littering his face or because rumor’s spread that he’s a cheater. Either way, he doesn’t like the attention. 

__

He isn’t surprised when Sarah doesn’t even turn in his direction. He doesn’t try to approach her, he isn’t that stupid. 

__

At lunch Eddie does sit by him, but they don’t talk much, actually, no one really says anything to him. He earns the stink eye from Mike at one point and Ben’s already put his two cents in. He sighs. 

__

After school he sits in the parking lot and notes the number of cars still there. Then he remembers the musical’s tonight. It makes him feel ultra bad. Sarah’s already been stressed about that, now she has the knowledge that her boyfriend sucks. _Ex boyfriend._

__

 

__

He doesn’t expect Eddie to climb into the passenger seat. He does this wordlessly and sits there in silence as if he were waiting for Richie to start the car and drive off. Richie does just that. Halfway home Eddie starts rambling.

__

“What happened was really fucked up and I pretty much put all of the blame on you even though I’m at fault here too.” Eddie says unexpectedly. Richie’s surprised, to say the least, he isn’t sure what to say to that.

__

“It was easier to channel all that pain on to you and I’m sorry. Our situation was more than what I was making it out to be.” Eddie takes a second before he adds, “does that make sense?” 

__

“I think so.” Richie responds. He understands what Eddie’s trying to say.

__

“It shouldn’t have happened. Not until you two were over. We were selfish.” Eddie concludes. Richie doesn’t have anything more to add so he says nothing. 

__

Later that night when Eddie’s fingers brush the nape of Richie’s neck and tangle in his curls, he feels better. And then he feels bad for feeling better, Sarah probably still feels horrible. 

__

The only way to heal, is time.

__

-

__

‘I’m ready to talk’ is a text Richie receives about two weeks after Sarah beat the crap out of him and stopped coming around. 

__

He feels his stomach drop.’s an unsettling text. Sure, he wants to resolve things, well, at least give some closure, but talking has never been his strong suit and he’s scared his words won’t be the right ones. 

__

‘Okay’ is all he responds with and he’s already regretting that. Does it sound too casual? Like he doesn’t care?

__

Sarah doesn’t reply after that and he ends up playing russian roulette with the remaining hours of the day. Richie tries to prepare himself for when she pops out of the woodwork with a dagger ready to smite him. 

__

Ten minutes before nine she comes knocking on his door. She does not have a dagger.

__

She doesn’t look mad when she walks in, she doesn’t look sad either, she doesn’t really look like anything. However, she does hesitate before sitting down on his bed and she doesn’t look at his face, she stares at the ground. 

__

“Hi,” he says awkwardly and immediately wants to rip his own throat out. She doesn’t greet him back instead she stays quiet for a little while. The silence kills Richie. 

__

“Was it all- were you-” Sarah finally starts, but she can’t finish. Richie knows what she’s trying to ask. 

__

“No, I swear to god Sarah I really do love you, that was real, in the beginning, everything was real.” He feels awful when he says it, but now is the time to be truthful. He chants that last part in his head a couple times. 

__

“In the beginning…” she repeats, Richie swallows, his throat feels like there’s a hand wrapped around it. 

__

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he croaks, “I was selfish, it’s all because of my selfishness that this even happened. I didn’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend.” 

__

Something inside Sarah doesn’t want her to lift her head but she forces it up anyways, their eyes meet. 

__

“So- you weren’t just messing around? It was more than that.” 

__

It hadn’t even struck him that she may have thought what he and Eddie have is only physical. He feels his insides collapse. 

__

“Yes it is more than that,” he confirms lowly. 

__

“Jesus,” she rasps and touches her forehead with her fingertips. After a few minutes she asks, “so you’re gay?” 

__

Richie cautiously shakes his head, “No I- I’ve never even looked at a dude like that, other than Eddie.” The mention of Eddie’s name makes her look away. 

__

“I just don’t get it.” she says. 

__

“What?” 

__

-

__

Sarah. 

__

That day she had wanted to say, “I don’t get why it can’t be me that you love.” But that sounds pathetic and sad. The whole situation is pathetic and sad. 

__

It’s still very hard for her to think about Richie. It’s hard for her to wrap her head around everything. She never once saw this as a possibility. It makes her wonder what made her so oblivious? Had she not looked close enough? Did she not listen hard enough? She thought she knew everything about Richie, but it turns out she knew nothing at all. 

__

It kills her, thinking about it. She ended up having to battle the idea that all of this happened because she wasn’t good enough. A toxic thought, one that she knows isn’t true. Yet she still wonders, wonders _why Eddie?_ She thinks could spend the rest of her life asking herself that, but she’d end up with the same results, nothing.

__

She guesses some people are meant to be and others aren’t. 

__

It’s been a month and she doesn’t see much of Richie, doesn’t care to pay him any attention. She ignores how much she misses him, how broken her heart is. It’s how she gets by. She tries not to think about him, tries not to look. But sometimes she’s weak and sometimes her gaze wanders and sometimes Eddie’s there too and sometimes they’re smiling at each other. This usually rips up each and every stitch she’s carefully weaved into her pain and it all comes spilling out again. 

__

Right now she’s looking at Dennis, Dennis is nice, he wants to be a nurse. His teeth are perfect and he doesn’t wear old shitty glasses. She met Dennis a few nights ago, the first day they arrived on the coast. 

__

He’s a lot of fun. He knows nothing about her and she knows nothing about him, it calls for painless encounters. He’s been sticking around their rental the past few days and Sarah isn’t ashamed to share a bed with him. She isn’t ashamed when she has sex with him either. She wants too, she needs too.

__

“You smell like popcorn,” Dennis says, he licks a stripe up the side of her neck. She shivers. 

__

“So you lick me?” 

__

“I love popcorn.” 

__

“You’re fucking weird,” a minute later she asks, “do you wanna go watch baby sea turtles hatch?” 

__

“Thought you’d never ask.” 

__

-

__

On the last morning of their vacation, Sarah wakes up early, before the suns even settles into the sky. She leaves Dennis asleep in her bed and leaves her shoes in front of the door. Barefoot, she walks down to the edge of the water and looks out at the ocean. 

__

A few minutes later she starts to book it down the shoreline. She runs until her lungs burn until it feels like they’re filled with sand, even then she keeps running. Her head feels lighter and her legs move faster than she thought possible. She’s not a runner, but she pushes herself as if she were one, she keeps no pace, her face tinged with the pain in her muscles.

__

She only stops when she tastes copper deep in the back of her throat. In her mind, she wins first place. 

__

Blocks away from where she started, she turns towards the sea and sinks her feet into the soppy sand. She watches it swallow up her toes and set at her ankles, she peers up to see the sun starting to break across the horizon. It looks beautiful. She takes a deep breath.

__

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this a few weeks ago and finally fixed it enough to where I didn't have to delete it lol. This is actually loosely based on a song called Sarah by Alex G https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cK5k7srWRO0 I'm actually thinking about doing another fic to one of his songs so let me know if ya'll like this one. I have a very different music taste so you've probably never heard this song. If you actually enjoy it here is a link to my 8tracks where I make playlists with more songs you've probably never heard https://8tracks.com/sicktastic (Also I apologize for my grammar and spelling errors, I don't have a proofreader and no one I know in real life knows this is how I spend my time lol. If anyone's interested in helping a sister out in the future please let me know!) Feed back is very much appreciated!!


End file.
